Page 74 of Raven

I inhaled deeply, my nostrils flaring as I drew in the lingering scent of Tia's distress. The air tasted different now, charged with the remnants of my unleashed ability. My fingers tingled, alive with the power I'd just wielded.

I remained seated, cross-legged in the centre of my cell. My eyes stayed closed, but a small smile tugged at the corners of my mouth. The concrete floor beneath me no longer felt cold; instead, it seemed to hum with residual energy.

My chest rose and fell in slow, measured breaths. Each exhale carried away a fraction of the tension that had knotted my muscles, replacing it with a warm satisfaction that spread through my limbs.

I uncurled my fists, fingers splaying out on my thighs. The skin of my palms tingled, as if I'd been holding onto live wires. I focused on that sensation, letting it ground me in the moment.

Gradually, I became aware of the silence around me. Tia's retreating footsteps had long since faded, leaving only the steady rhythm of my own heartbeat. It pounded in my ears, strong and resolute, a reminder that I was still here, still fighting.

But I wasn't done. Not yet.

I reached out with my ability once more, letting it seep through the cracks in the concrete, searching. There—just beyond around the corner—I sensed him. The guard. His emotions flickered at the edge of my consciousness, a mix of boredom and unease.

My lips curled into a predatory grin. Perfect.

I gathered my power, concentrating it into a fine point. Then, with the precision of a surgeon, I began to push. Slowly at first, agentle prod at the guard's emotional state. I felt his unease grow, watched it bloom into anxiety.

More. I needed more.

I dug deeper, tapping into the well of pain and betrayal that Tia had left behind. I shaped it, moulded it, and then hurled it at the unsuspecting guard. Wave after wave of anguish and despair crashed against his psyche.

Confusion turned to fear, fear to panic. A muffled whimper from beyond the corner, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop.

I pushed harder, relentless. The guard's emotions spiralled, a maelstrom of terror and misery. His pain fed me, fuelled my assault. I was vaguely aware of a choking sob echoing in the hallway, but it felt distant, unimportant.

He gasped, letting out a strangled sob. Opening my eyes, I listened, holding onto that pain. I'd given him mine, fed it to him. I'd never tried that before. When I'd used my power on someone, I'd only ever calmed them. Ironic, right? My father had taught me that I could send any kind of emotion out. As long as I could feel it, I could use it.

My father had flooded me when he'd killed my mother. He'd rendered me useless. Could I do that to them? Could I use my abilities to influence someone to do something for me?

"What's wrong?" someone said.

"I don't know," came the reply, but it was a sobbed reply. "I just..." The words cut off in a cry of pain.

So I pushed, and pushed and threaded everything I felt out and into him. Could this be it? Could I really do it? I pushed it to him as if we were standing side by side and I was pulling out all my pain like it was a thread of wool. I needed him to take it. I needed to twist it more than I thought. I changed it. Morphed it. Instead of my pain, I turned it to guilt. But I felt the other body near him. Another man, a panther. One I had only seen bring me food. I latched onto him too, doing the same.

A clatter told me the first man had collapsed. "Chester," someone said, but it didn't take long for his own pain to mingle with mine.

But this time, instead of feeding him the agony I felt, instead of all the betrayal, I turned it around. I had to force myself to feel, almost like putting myself in his shoes, only if those shoes had a fucking conscience. Well, I gave him that part. Made him feel all the guilt, all the remorse.

I pushed harder, channelling every ounce of shame and regret I could muster. I imagined what it would feel like to be complicit in keeping someone prisoner, in tearing a family apart. The weight of it, the crushing, suffocating guilt. I poured it all into him.

A choked sob echoed from the hallway, followed by the sound of stumbling footsteps. They grew closer, urgent and unsteady. I kept my head down, maintaining my facade of despair, even as I felt him approach.

"Oh god," the guard's voice was thick with emotion. "Oh god, what have we done?"

I didn't move.

"I'm sorry," he gasped out. His footsteps drew nearer, hesitant but driven by the overwhelming remorse I'd given to him. "I'm so, so sorry."

I lifted my head slowly, feigning surprise at his presence. The guard stood before me, his face a mask of anguish. Tears streamed down his cheeks, his body trembling with the force of his emotions.

He fell to his knees, reaching out as if to touch me but stopping short. "Please," he begged, his voice cracking. "Please forgive me. I didn't ... I didn't know. I didn't understand what we were doing to you."

I stared at him, letting the silence stretch, feeling his desperation grow.

"I can't ... I can't bear this," he continued, words tumbling out in a rush. "What we've done, keeping you here, it's wrong. It's all wrong. I'll help you. I'll do anything. Just... please, forgive me."

"You're sorry?"

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